Five Things that Never Happened to Dawn
by HonorH
Summary: Five small changes. Five possibilities. Five ways it could have gone for Dawn.
1. Sister, Sister

Disclaimer: I do not own Dawn Summers (she just comes over to play a lot) or the Buffyverse in general. They belong to Joss. We must all give homage to Joss.  
  
Note: Okay, so in between OBAFU, PPC work, and my other new fanfic project, I had a few minutes to spare. Those were spent creating a "Five Things" thanks to Selena and her Warren "Five Things" (&^*% plot bunnies!). Hope you enjoy.  
  
Five Things that Never Happened to Dawn  
  
By HonorH  
  
1: Sister, Sister  
  
Dracula had moved on, and Buffy decided she'd be just as happy to forget the entire bizarro incident. Hopefully, Riley and a good--or bad--movie would help her do just that. The Slayer hiked up the stairs to change clothes and run a brush through her hair.  
  
"Did not!"  
  
"Did too, you little klepto!"  
  
Rolling her eyes, Buffy stopped by the room the yelling was coming from and poked her head in. "You two think you could give it a rest just for a day? Mom said she had a headache."  
  
"She said I stole her shirt!" protested Dawn, pointing an accusing finger. "As if I'd steal her slutwear."  
  
"You're so smart, you tell me where it went, kid," said Faith. The younger Slayer glared at her little sister before turning her attention to Buffy. "B, you seen that stripey sleeveless blouse of mine? I was gonna wear it to my job interview."  
  
Buffy sighed. These two got into it at least once a day. "Haven't, but isn't it kinda skimpy for a job interview?"  
  
"See? Slutwear!" said Dawn.  
  
"I was gonna wear a jacket. You think I'm stupid? Do not answer that, Dawn."  
  
"I didn't take it," Dawn stated again. The young girl moved to Buffy's side, pouting a bit. "She's always saying I took her stuff. It's not fair."  
  
Buffy brushed Dawn's long, brown hair back from her face. Such a sweet kid, especially for all she'd been through, and she absolutely idolized Buffy. That was kinda nice, if Buffy was honest with herself. Besides, the memory of the look on Giles' face when Faith had shown up in town with her 12-year- old sister in tow ("Damned if I was gonna leave her with our junkie mom or Boston's child welfare system. You got room for us at your place, B? Watchers don't pay for dick.") was always good for a chuckle.  
  
Besides, privately, Buffy thought maybe Dawn was the best thing for Faith. Faith had been walking on the edge when she came into town after her Watcher's death, and the triple-punch combination of Gwendolyn Post, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, and Allan Finch had very nearly driven the dark-haired Slayer over that edge. Having Dawn to care for, though, had grounded Faith--and Joyce becoming Dawn's foster mother had drawn them both into the Summers family.  
  
Hadn't exactly been a smooth journey, of course, but excepting the daily sister-fights and the logistics of four women, one bathroom, Buffy thought it was worth it.  
  
"Faith, why don't you borrow my red silk shell?" Buffy suggested. "You always look great in red, and we can find the other one later and more quietly."  
  
"Fine, whatever," muttered Faith, sweeping out of the room.  
  
"I didn't take it," Dawn repeated for the benefit of all and sundry. "Gawd. She doesn't do this to you."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'd beat her up. How about we go school shopping tomorrow?"  
  
Dawn bounced cutely and hugged Buffy. "You are the greatest, you know that? I wish you were my big sister instead of Ms. Moody."  
  
"Nah," said Buffy, mussing Dawn's hair. "I'd be a terrible sister." 


	2. The Gift and the Choice

The Gift and the Choice  
  
The cuts created a fiery web of pain across Dawn's torso, and the blood loss was making her dizzy. Still, she was clear on one thing: she had to die. She watched as the portal ripped into her reality, growing every second, ready to consume all those Dawn loved best, and knew she couldn't let it go on.  
  
"It has to have the blood," she told the woman who stood in her way.  
  
Buffy's face twisted with anguish as she shook her head minutely. For a moment, the pain, the terror, everything was washed out of Dawn's mind by the warm glow that came with the realization that Buffy truly did love her. After everything, Buffy was still willing to go to any length to save her. And oh, Dawn wanted to be saved.  
  
But she wouldn't be. The portal would stay open until she died, no matter how long that took--and Dawn knew she would die soon. The only difference was in how much of the world would die with her.  
  
"I can't," Buffy choked out.  
  
"You have to. Buffy, you know it's right." Dawn fought to keep her voice steady in spite of her mounting terror. "You have to let me go."  
  
Buffy looked over her shoulder at the increasing light, a disastrous sunrise blighted by world-destroying energy. When her eyes returned to Dawn, they were calm. Almost happy.  
  
One of the Slayer's hands touched Dawn's face. The other took Dawn's hand. And Buffy spoke.  
  
"I won't let you go."  
  
Dawn shook her head. "Buffy, I have to die--"  
  
"I know." Tears stood in Buffy's eyes. "But not alone."  
  
Comprehension. "No. You can't . . . no."  
  
"I can. And I will. The world can have a new Slayer, Dawn. I'm not leaving you. Whatever you face on the other side of life, wherever that portal leads, you won't be alone. My gift is to go with you into death." Buffy leaned forward and kissed her sister's face. "It's my choice, and I choose to never leave you. I love you, Dawn. More than this world, I love you."  
  
And Buffy drew Dawn to the end of the tower. Dawn's body was numb, her mind filled with a peculiar clarity that banished every hint of fear. She turned and embraced her sister, and in that embrace, they fell.  
  
***  
  
The sudden silence was more fearful to Giles than the chaos had been. Pushing debris out of his way, he made for the tower. And stopped.  
  
On the ground lay two girls. The elder lay on her back, with the younger's body covering her. They looked peaceful, as if they'd simply fallen asleep in that loving embrace.  
  
A gasping sob of anguished disbelief from his left alerted Giles to Willow's presence. A howl of pain from his right meant Spike. Shuffling, difficult footsteps came from behind the Watcher.  
  
"What--what happened?" asked Xander in a perfectly numb voice, the voice of a man who sees what's in front of him but cannot process it.  
  
Giles knew they would make up their own stories later. That Buffy had gotten to the top of the tower and fought Dawn's attacker, that she'd gone to save Dawn, that they'd fallen together when the tower pitched. They would tell their stories, and Giles would not tell them the truth.  
  
That Buffy had chosen her death, as she'd never chosen her life. 


	3. Our Happy Family

A/N: Takes place around the time of "Entropy."  
  
Our Happy Family  
  
A tableau: Spike's crypt. Dawn standing just inside the door. Spike standing across the room. Between them, the dead body of a teenage girl. On the girl's neck, a bite mark. On Spike's mouth, blood.  
  
Dawn was frozen. Her mind was busy processing this: that Spike was killing again, and had, in fact, just killed Dawn's Biology lab partner, Rachel. It crossed Dawn's mind that she didn't like Rachel, thought she was a slut, but that was no reason she should die. Especially not by vampire bite.  
  
Spike's bite.  
  
"You . . . you killed her," gasped Dawn.  
  
Spike looked for a moment like he was about to argue, say no, make up some ridiculous story. Then his features hardened.  
  
"I did," he said. "Chip stopped working a few days back. Hurt like hell for about an hour--then nothing. Gave it a trial run and it didn't fire." He looked at the body on the floor. "You know her?"  
  
"Rachel."  
  
"She a mate of yours?"  
  
Dawn tilted her head as if she was trying to understand a very difficult concept. "You killed her."  
  
"'S what I am, Niblet. A vampire. The chip held me back is all."  
  
"I've got to go." Dawn turned around to leave.  
  
Spike crossed the intervening space in a heartbeat, grabbed her arm, pulled her back into the crypt, and slammed the door shut. "You're going to your sis, aren't you? You'll tell her."  
  
The strange thing was that Dawn hadn't realized until that moment just how dangerous the situation was. Spike was just Spike, not a dangerous vampire-- until now. And Dawn knew suddenly that she was in mortal danger.  
  
"No," she told him, fear creeping into her voice. "I won't. I won't say a thing. You can get out of town, and she won't know a thing, I promise."  
  
"Get out of town?" he asked. "You think that's what I want? Be away from her for good and all? I'm not leaving, Niblet."  
  
Dawn cringed back, trying to pull her arm free of his grasp. "Okay, you don't have to. Just please, Spike, let me go. Please. I-I won't tell her." She pulled back further, until her back hit the crypt wall.  
  
Spike stepped forward. "Doesn't matter, you know. She'll find out eventually, and then it'll--she keeps saying she doesn't love me. She finds out, she'll never come back to me."  
  
Dawn gasped again, remembering--"Sleeping with a vampire I hate"--Buffy's maddened words, Buffy's odd absences. It suddenly clicked for her.  
  
"You two, you've been . . . she never said anything. Why?"  
  
"I can make her happy," Spike insisted. "You believe me, don't you, Niblet? If she'll just let me." He advanced on Dawn, pinning her up against the wall. "She hasn't been happy, not since the blighters brought her back. If she'll let me in, I can show her. I'll make her understand where she belongs."  
  
Terror gripped Dawn. "Let me go, then. If you hurt me, she'll never forgive you."  
  
"No, she wouldn't," Spike agreed unexpectedly. Tenderly, he laid a hand on Dawn's face. "You were all that kept her in this world, you know."  
  
Dawn relaxed fractionally, hoping she'd found leverage. "Right. And you'd never hurt her, would you?"  
  
His thumb gently grazed Dawn's lower lip. "Sometimes, Bit, you've got to hurt someone to help her. See, she should be in the dark, with me. Only she won't do it. Not for me." He drew even closer, his body now pressing against Dawn's. "But she would--for you. You tie her to this world . . . and now, you'll tie her to mine."  
  
It took a moment for Dawn to comprehend what he was saying. Her eyes went wide with horror. "No, Spike, you can't--please, God, no!"  
  
"Shh." Spike kissed her lips gently, so gently. "It only hurts for a second."  
  
Blue eyes turned amber. The hand that had been so tender against Dawn's face pushed her head back violently, and as a single scream tore out of Dawn's mouth, Spike's fangs sank into her neck.  
  
The pain took her breath away, and she couldn't get it back enough to scream again. She heard, dimly, Spike swallowing, taking her blood. There was pain and fear and the dizzy sensation of blood loss . . .  
  
Then the pain was gone. The fear was gone, too, as Spike's arms wrapped around her and they sank to the floor. Strange--Dawn had never felt this close to anyone before, laying cradled against Spike as he drank down her blood. It was sort of a floaty, warm, comfortable feeling. It was nice, like she belonged to someone.  
  
The jaws let go of her neck. "Good, Bit, good," said his voice. "It's going to be all right now. We'll be a family. Be a good girl for me now."  
  
Something pressed against her mouth, forcing it open. The last vague remnants of Dawn Summers were crying out for her not to drink, but they were too weak to listen to. He had her blood, and she had his, now.  
  
The last sensation of her mortal life was that of Spike's now-warm lips pressing a kiss to her now-cold forehead.  
  
***  
  
Buffy was in despair. Just a few days ago, it had seemed like things would be okay again with her and Dawn. They'd been opening up to each other, taking care of each other. Buffy had actually started to feel like her life was worth living again.  
  
And now, Dawn was gone. She hadn't come home from her study date the night before, and Buffy and her friends had been frantically scouring Sunnydale for twenty-four hours. Tara's location spell had turned up nothing. Spike said his demon contacts weren't saying anything. No one seemed to have seen Dawn since she'd left Lisa's house shortly after sunset the previous night. Buffy had even called the police out of sheer desperation.  
  
Nothing. Not one word, not one lead. A hollow sensation clutched at Buffy's gut. If something had happened to Dawn, if she was . . . no. Buffy wouldn't think about that. This was just another demon trying to piss off the Slayer, and it was succeeding. Dawn was alive; she had to be. Buffy just had to find her.  
  
She headed for Spike's crypt, thinking that maybe they could go roust out some demons again. As she reached it, Spike stepped out, smoking a cigarette.  
  
"Summers, I was just going to go find you. C'mere--you'll be interested in this." He waved her into his crypt.  
  
"This had better be worth my time, Spike," the Slayer snapped. "I need to-- "  
  
She stopped cold inside the crypt. Sitting on Spike's couch was Dawn, pale and silent.  
  
"Dawn? Dawn!" Relief flooded Buffy's mind and body. "Dawnie, are you okay? Are you hurt?" She rushed down to embrace her sister.  
  
"I'm okay," murmured Dawn.  
  
"God, you're freezing!" Buffy took off her jacket, put it around Dawn's shoulders. "Sweetie, what happened to you? Spike, how'd you find her?"  
  
Dawn's eyes met Buffy's. "I'm fine, Buffy," she said quite calmly. "Just fine."  
  
And Buffy knew.  
  
Spike's footsteps sounded loudly in the silence. "I finally figured it out, Slayer. Finally got it through my thick skull what it would take for you to join me in the dark, where you belong."  
  
"What have you done?" asked Buffy faintly. But she knew.  
  
"Protected her. Just like you asked me to. I've made her stronger, faster, better. Chip stopped working for good and all, by the by." Spike stopped immediately behind where Buffy sat on the couch. "I saved her, and now we'll save you."  
  
Dawn's red mouth curved into a smile in her ghostly face. "It's not that bad, Buffy. In fact, I like it."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "No."  
  
"Oh, Buffy," sighed Dawn. "You always make things so hard on yourself. It's so much easier this way." Her eyes flicked down to Buffy's torso. "If you don't believe me, of course, you've got that stake in your waistband."  
  
One of the Slayer's hands moved toward the stake, then stopped, opening and closing convulsively. This couldn't be real. Her little sister couldn't be a . . .  
  
Spike sat down behind her, sandwiching her between himself and Dawn. "You don't want to do it, love. She's all that held you in the sunlight. Now, she's found, as you will, that the dark is so much more welcoming. You can stake her and me now and return to the light alone, or you can do nothing and join us." He kissed the back of her neck. "Be happy for once in your existence."  
  
"You bastard," Buffy breathed. "You bastard."  
  
But she did nothing. Nothing as Dawn leaned in and kissed her sister's lips just as gently as Spike had kissed Dawn's own. Nothing as Dawn leaned down and sank her fangs into her sister's neck. Nothing as the world went dark.  
  
***  
  
Location spells had turned up nothing. Spike said his demon contacts remained silent about the missing Summers sisters. And Willow and Xander were beside themselves, frantic with worry that was quickly turning into terror.  
  
"They can't have just disappeared!" Xander insisted angrily. "Something happened that's not of the good."  
  
"I know." Willow hurried to keep up with Xander's stride, her face pale. "Tara can do a stronger location spell if she has something with Buffy and Dawn's DNA, like a few strands of hair. And--and I think we need to alert Giles."  
  
"Totally with you," Xander agreed as they headed up the front walk to the Summers house.  
  
They opened the door to the biggest, most welcome shock of their lives. Dawn smiled warmly at them as they stood, gaping, in the doorway.  
  
"Hey, guys," she said.  
  
"Dawnie?" Willow asked. "Dawnie, what happened?"  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes cheerfully. "Long, long story. Why don't you two come on in, and I'll tell you."  
  
"Does Buffy know you're all right?" asked Xander as Willow ran in and hugged Dawn tight. "Is she here?"  
  
"She's here, she knows, and she's exhausted," said Dawn, nodding toward the couch once Willow let her go.  
  
Both Willow and Xander looked to see the Slayer sprawled on the couch, apparently deeply asleep. Spike approached from the kitchen.  
  
"Hope you two are in the mood for a good story," he said. "These two have been through--well, you tell 'em, Niblet."  
  
Dawn grinned mischievously. "Come over here, both of you. You've gotta see this." She went over to the couch and stood by Buffy's side. As Xander and Willow approached, Dawn lifted a few strands of hair away from Buffy's neck. "Look."  
  
Willow leaned in closer to look at what Dawn was indicating.  
  
Vampire bite.  
  
It took Willow's sharp brain approximately two seconds to realize just what was going on. Her head jerked up to see the very un-Dawn-like cruel smile distorting Dawn's lovely features.  
  
"Funny thing about the location spells you guys have been using," said the vampire teen. "They only work to find the living."  
  
"What?" asked Xander, who hadn't seen the bite mark.  
  
Buffy's eyes snapped open. Dawn stood back like a proud parent as the newly- fledged vampire found the closest source of warm blood--Willow. One hand shot out, grabbing Willow's neck, yanking her violently close.  
  
Xander belatedly realized what was going on. Far too late. Spike grabbed the young carpenter from behind.  
  
"I've wanted to do this ever since I met you," murmured the vampire, and he snapped Xander's neck with one brutal twist.  
  
Buffy pulled Willow closer until they were eye-to-eye, Willow's face turning purple as Buffy's hand contracted on her windpipe. No possibility of speech, no possibility of spells, no possibility of life.  
  
With a savage snarl, Buffy tore into her first meal as a vampire. She gulped down her former friend's blood greedily, draining her until nothing was left. A white-faced corpse hit the floor at Dawn's feet.  
  
Buffy sat up on the couch and stretched, working the kinks out of her neck. "God, this resurrection crap is so much easier without the stupid soul," she sighed. "Guess I'm three for three now."  
  
"Feeling better?" asked Dawn.  
  
"Much, much better," said Buffy. She nudged Willow's corpse with her foot. "That felt really good."  
  
"Saved you some Xander if you're still hungry," said Spike.  
  
Buffy stood up. "You," she said, sauntering over to him, "are still a bastard."  
  
"That I am," he agreed. They faced each other for a moment before coming together into a greedy, almost violent, kiss. Abruptly, Buffy shoved Spike away and backhanded him soundly. "What was that for?" he demanded.  
  
"Just want to make something very clear," the former Slayer said in a quiet, deadly tone. "You may have made Dawn, and she may have made me--but you don't own me. Try it, and I'll get back into the Slaying business. Got that?"  
  
They stared each other down for a long moment. Then they were back in each other's arms for another brutal kiss.  
  
Dawn made an impatient sound. "I cannot believe you didn't say anything about screwing Spike for how long?"  
  
Buffy broke away from their kiss. "Couple of months. Still can't believe none of you caught on." She looked disdainfully at Willow and Xander's bodies. "Not them so much, though. Heaven forbid their Saint Buffy would do anything wrong."  
  
"So what now?" asked Dawn.  
  
"Yeah, love. What do you want to do now?" asked Spike.  
  
"Oh, everything." Buffy stretched luxuriously again. "First of all, there are a few geeks who need to be taught a lesson on what real villains are. Then there's Tara--wanna turn her, Dawnie? She put up with enough crap from Willow. I kinda feel sorry for her."  
  
"Yes! Yay!" Dawn bounced and clapped.  
  
"Maybe Anya, too, for putting up with Xander," suggested Spike.  
  
"Maybe," agreed Buffy. "You have any friends you want to eat, Dawn? Turn? What about Janice?"  
  
"Spike brought her to me as my first meal," said Dawn. "No chance of turning her." She pouted a bit.  
  
Buffy touched her sister's face. "Now, Dawnie, you know she was a bad influence. You don't need that anymore. Spike and I are all the bad influences you'll ever need."  
  
Dawn grinned, a feral glint in her blue eyes. "Oh, yeah."  
  
"I've got it. Let's hit the mall. You really need new clothes--what's up with that outfit?" Buffy gave Dawn a disapproving once-over.  
  
"Well, duh, I had to pretend to be sweet li'l Dawnie for Xander and Willow." Dawn plucked at her blue sweater. "This is totally lame."  
  
"Okay, shopping first, without that nasty thing about having to pay for what you take." Buffy opened the door and stepped out of her house, pulling in a deep breath. "Good old Sunnydale. You know, I don't think they ever really appreciated me here."  
  
"They will now," growled Spike.  
  
"Oh, they, believe me, will." Buffy turned, facing Spike and her sister. "I say we cut a bloody swath through this town, and then leave and never come back."  
  
"We're leaving Sunnydale?" asked Dawn.  
  
"Sure you want to go, love?" asked Spike. "We three could own this place."  
  
"Yeah, but it's so dull here, except for the demons and stuff. Besides," Buffy said, sliding an arm around Dawn, "I think it's about time I showed my sister the world. Don't you?" 


	4. Junior Watcher

A/N: Set after "Lies My Parents Told Me." This chapter was the hardest to write--it actually upset me while I was doing the writing. Consider yourselves warned.  
  
Junior Watcher  
  
Calm. Control. That was the key. Tara had taught her meditation exercises the summer after Buffy's death, when sometimes the pain and fear would get to be too much for Dawn. Breathe in. Breathe out. Listen to your own heartbeat.  
  
Dawn watched Spike from inside. He was pacing in the backyard, smoking a cigarette. Buffy had asked him to smoke outside whenever possible, since some of the girls were allergic to cigarette smoke. Though there weren't many inside this evening, as Buffy had taken about half of them for a patrol, Spike was still obeying her orders.  
  
Just like he always did.  
  
Breathe in. Breathe out.  
  
Dawn pushed the screen door out of her way and walked into the yard, a steaming cup of cocoa in her hands. Spike instantly turned to look at her.  
  
"'Lo, Niblet," he said. "Sorry about earlier."  
  
She shrugged carefully to avoid spilling the cocoa. "It's okay. You weren't yourself."  
  
He looked like he didn't know what to say to that. What was there to say?  
  
"What brings you out here?" he asked.  
  
"I . . . I wanted to talk to you."  
  
Calm. Control.  
  
He looked at her penetratingly. "What about?"  
  
"I . . ." She was losing it. Bad timing. "I just . . . we haven't really talked since . . ."  
  
Since when? Since Buffy had come back? Since Dawn had discovered their affair? Since Spike had come back, soul in tow? She hoped he would put her nervousness down to that.  
  
"I know," he said softly.  
  
Dawn forced herself to look right at him, into his eyes. "We were friends before. Weren't we?"  
  
He was the one to look away. "We were. Guess I muddled that right up, didn't I?"  
  
Breathe in.  
  
"Things have just been so tense and . . . a lot of it's because of you," she said.  
  
Breathe out.  
  
His head snapped up, his eyes looking at her penetratingly.  
  
"They don't understand," she explained. "The Potentials. They don't understand about you and Buffy. She won't explain. I can't explain. They don't trust her--because of you."  
  
He looked away again. "I know."  
  
Listen to your heartbeat. Find a quiet place.  
  
"I just . . . I think I get it. She wants it to be okay with you because if it is, that means last year wasn't quite as bad."  
  
"Yeah, that's about it," he agreed. "If I can be a better man with my soul, maybe it means all we put each other through was worth something after all. She really does believe, though--she's not just convincing herself." He lowered his head a little. "I want to believe."  
  
"So do I." Dawn's voice was low.  
  
Spike looked at her, cocking his head in that Spikean way he had. "Do you now, Niblet?"  
  
His pet name for her almost broke her resolve. Tears sprang to her eyes.  
  
"I feel like I don't even know you anymore," she said. "Like maybe I never did know you."  
  
Breathe in. Breathe out. Calm.  
  
"I know how you feel," he said, voice just as soft as hers. "I don't quite know myself."  
  
His accent changed when he said things like that, sounded more like Giles'.  
  
She swallowed. Time to get down to business. "Would you leave, Spike? If it was best for Buffy, would you leave?"  
  
"If she asked me, yes."  
  
"And only then?"  
  
"Only then."  
  
Dawn nodded. Control was the key. She crossed the space between them. "I brought you some cocoa. It should be cool enough for you to drink now--I remember you always had to wait for it to cool down because you don't have a body temperature and . . . well, you know." She handed it to him without looking, hoping he'd think she was just embarrassed.  
  
"Thanks, Bit," he murmured.  
  
Breathe in. Breathe out. Listen to your heartbeat.  
  
She wrapped her arms around herself and looked out into Sunnydale, trying to stem her trembling.  
  
"You afraid, Dawn?" he asked.  
  
"Yes." That one was easy to deflect. There were plenty of reasons to be afraid. "Mostly, I'm afraid for her."  
  
"Don't be. She'll do the necessary." He took a long gulp of the cocoa.  
  
"Not always," said Dawn. "Sometimes, someone else has to do it for her." She turned to look at him, forced herself to look right into his eyes.  
  
He looked puzzled. "What do you . . ."  
  
Breathe. Just keep breathing.  
  
He choked. A shudder passed through his body. "What . . ?"  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered.  
  
He looked at the cup, and comprehension dawned on his face. She made herself keep looking at him, even as sweat finally broke out on her forehead and tears leaked from her eyes. She lost the rhythm of her breath, and her heart pounded in her ears.  
  
The cup fell from his hand, splashing cocoa made with holy water on the ground as he convulsed. Dawn kept her eyes on his even as they grew bright with accusation and pain, even as he gasped out a barely-audible scream, even as he was destroyed from the inside out.  
  
Calm. Control. It wasn't over yet. Dawn wiped the tears from her eyes with shaking hands and bent down to pick up the cocoa cup. Ashes clung to it. Beside it laid another, smaller object: Spike's skull ring. Dawn picked it up as well and pocketed it. Then she went inside.  
  
Breathe in. Breathe out.  
  
***  
  
Ten minutes later, Buffy wandered into the kitchen, where Dawn was doing dishes.  
  
"Anything happen while we were out?" the Slayer asked. Her voice sounded almost cheerful, but with that underlying tension she'd been carrying around for too long.  
  
"No," answered Dawn. "How'd patrol go?"  
  
"Fine. They're still dropping stakes, but fine. Where's Spike?"  
  
Breathe in. "Dunno. Haven't seen him."  
  
"Dawn."  
  
Dawn turned just enough to see Buffy.  
  
"One of the girls said you went to talk to Spike," said the Slayer. "She said you seemed upset when you came back in."  
  
Damn. Not enough control. But maybe this could work out for the best.  
  
"What happened, Dawn?"  
  
Dawn scrubbed at the cup in the sink. "He's gone."  
  
"What?" Buffy stepped to Dawn's side, fixing her sister's face with an intense stare. "What do you mean, he's gone?"  
  
"He left, okay?" Dawn allowed a few of the tears in her eyes to run down her cheeks. "I went to talk to him, and he told me he was going because . . . because he was causing too much tension around here. Because the girls don't trust you because of him. And if they don't trust you, they're all dead, and probably you, too. So he went."  
  
Dawn rinsed her hands and fished Spike's ring out of her pocket while Buffy stood there, shocked.  
  
"Here," Dawn said. "He told me to give this to you. Said if you asked him to stay, he wouldn't have been able to leave, but he wanted to give you something."  
  
Buffy took the ring, pale-faced. She turned it over in her hands a few times, examining it from all angles.  
  
Her lips pressed together. She turned and threw the ring so hard that it lodged in the far wall, and then she stormed out of the kitchen.  
  
Calm. Control.  
  
Dawn turned her attention back to the cup she was washing, carefully going over it again and again with the washcloth until finally, another hand reached in and took it from her.  
  
"I think this is quite clean enough," said Giles, rinsing it. He pulled a towel from the rack and began to dry the cup. "It's good of you to do this work, Dawn. Buffy has more than enough on her mind. She can't handle everything, so it's up to the rest of us to take on the tasks she's unable to." He placed the cup in the cupboard. "There. It's done."  
  
He touched her back gently, stilling her trembling. Dawn looked at his reflection in the kitchen window. Gravely, Giles inclined his head to her before turning and leaving the kitchen. On his way out, he casually picked up an empty holy water bottle and pocketed it.  
  
Dawn dried her hands. Breathe in. Breathe out. 


	5. Not Chosen

A/N: I never was satisfied with the version of this that appeared in my LiveJournal, so this is, to say the least, considerably different. Hope you enjoy the semi-happy ending to all of this. I don't normally do deliberate AUs, so this has been an interesting exercise for me as a writer. Thanks for all the feedback, everyone!  
  
***  
  
Not Chosen  
  
Dawn hates Oxnard, just on principle. She particularly hates the boarding house she finds herself ensconced in, from the groaning plumbing to the Jack Kerouac wannabe who keeps trying to read her excerpts from his novel (sure to be a bestseller that will change the face of America once he gets it published). She really hates Xander for bringing her here. She especially hates Buffy for sending her away.  
  
What she hates most, though, is not being chosen for the fight.  
  
At least she was warned. Dawn had wondered how her mother's prophecy would pan out, for no matter how many times she was assured it was just the First messing with her, Dawn has been unable to think of what she saw that heart- wrenching night as anything but her mother. Now she knows: Buffy was against Dawn being there to fight the final battle by her side.  
  
So Dawn was taken from Sunnydale against her will, knocked out with chloroform and kidnapped by Xander, of all people. When she'd awakened, she'd begged, pleaded, cried, threatened, tried everything to get him to turn around, but he'd been adamant. She and Xander were to have no part in this fight because one of them had already given an eye for it, and the other was Buffy's little sister.  
  
In her heart, Dawn knows it was Buffy's love that sent her away. That's small consolation for being betrayed and taken out of the action without even having the chance to voice her thoughts and feelings on the matter (though those have been vented in her diary in strong, vivid language).  
  
It's all Dawn can do right now. That and wait.  
  
***  
  
It's an interesting house, in many respects. The landlord is Jackie, a cross-dresser with appalling taste in clothing. He's been nothing but nice ever since Xander and Dawn turned up on his doorstep and registered as Alexander and Dawn Harris, brother and sister. Dawn's contemplated the fact that she could get Xander in real trouble by confiding to Jackie that she really isn't Xander's sister, but she's not quite that mad at him. Besides, Xander might be all she has left.  
  
The other residents are Pam and Chris, who might be married or engaged or just shacking up. Dawn chiefly wishes they'd stop shouting at each other or screwing loudly in the bedroom next to hers. Greg and Paul, a gay couple, seem okay, though Paul does remind Dawn a bit much of Andrew. There are also Krissy and Gerda, the Nordic goddesses of the third floor; Trent, the aforementioned Beatnik working on his Great American Novel; and Mac, who needs to stop looking at Dawn that way right now, before either Dawn or Xander puts his lights out.  
  
The house itself was built (thus saith Jackie) in 1898, restored in the '60s, and refurbished repeatedly ever since. You can still see the original craftsmanship if you look hard enough in the right places. Jackie mentions something about a ghost. Dawn snorts.  
  
"You don't believe in ghosts, sugar?" asks the landlord.  
  
"Oh, I believe in them," says Dawn. "It just takes a lot more than a ghost to scare me."  
  
Mac makes an attempt to talk about Sunnydale and the Things He's Heard. Dawn gives him a good approximation of the look she bestowed on Spike when he came back, and Mac doesn't try to talk to her again.  
  
And Dawn goes back to waiting.  
  
***  
  
Waiting is a terrible game. Dawn's mind creates a dozen or so worst-case scenarios before she goes to bed at the end of her first full day in the boarding house. Most of them involve demon armies marching down the streets of Oxnard because Buffy has failed, and the Slayer no longer stands in the gap. They involve trying to run and hide as the whole world begins to crumble. All of them involve never knowing what's happened to Buffy.  
  
Her imagination also goes wild on why she's been sent away. The simple explanation that Buffy wants Dawn to survive even if she, the Slayer, doesn't, holds little weight against the feeling of having been brushed off and declared a liability rather than an asset. Dawn wonders if Buffy really forgave her for the night Dawn sent her away. This, then, would be fine vengeance. Dawn's going crazy. She'd prefer to be in Sunnydale, no matter the danger.  
  
Dawn doesn't write any of this in her diary. All she writes about is how mad she is and how she'll kill Buffy when she sees her next.  
  
*When* she sees her next.  
  
***  
  
The news of the Sunnydale sinkhole reaches them on the second day. A huge hole, created by an earthquake felt even in Oxnard, has swallowed all of Sunnydale, and the ocean is pouring in.  
  
Dawn sees it on the news. Then there's nothing but the roaring in her ears as she stumbles out of the house and throws up on the lawn. Xander is there, his arms around her, telling her that of course they got out, they had to get out, but there is no conviction in his voice.  
  
He knows, like Dawn does, that the others must be dead. Friend, sister, mentor, lover--all dead.  
  
The other residents tiptoe around, whispering, as Dawn curls up on the couch, watching the news cover the hell out of the drowning of the Hellmouth. Xander sits with her, Jackie tries to coax her to eat, Krissy and Gerda offer her hugs and thickly-accented reassurances, Paul makes her tea and calls her sweetie, and Dawn can make no sense out of any of it.  
  
She sees the sinkhole. She sees her sister's grave.  
  
***  
  
The night passes mostly without sleep. A few times, Dawn dozes off. Terrible nightmares chase her back to consciousness, or even more terrible dreams that Buffy is there, smiling, holding out her arms to embrace her sister. Come morning, Dawn awakes from one of these with a quilt tucked around her. She tosses it aside and walks out to sit beside the pool.  
  
She takes her diary with her, but it sits open and unused in her lap. There's nothing to say. Dawn's mind veers wildly between the conviction that Buffy is alive and is even now on her way to find Dawn, and certainty that Buffy is dead, buried by earth and sea. Hope and despair war within her as the sun climbs into the sky, reaches its apex, and then begins to wane.  
  
"Dawn?"  
  
Dawn stiffens as she hears the voice. Slowly, trying desperately not to disturb the dream she must be in, she turns.  
  
Buffy stands at the far side of the lawn. She looks like hell, her clothes torn and covered with dirt and blood, her posture screaming out her exhaustion, her face pale and drawn.  
  
Dawn stands, her diary spilling to the ground. This doesn't feel like a dream. Dawn tries to wake herself, but cannot.  
  
"Sorry it took so long to get here," says Buffy with a wan smile.  
  
It looks like her and sounds like her, and a terrible flicker of hope is fanned into flame inside Dawn. It hurts too much, though, and Dawn knows, knows what this is.  
  
"Go away," she growls. "You're not my sister. I won't let you do this to me."  
  
For a moment, Buffy looks hurt, but then comprehension washes over her face. "No, Dawn, it's me. It's not the First. Come here." She walks forward, reaching out.  
  
"No!" Dawn skips back, nearly falling into the pool, knocking her diary in. "Leave me alone!"  
  
Buffy stops, tears in her eyes, and looks around for an option. She finds one in one of the stones bordering the garden.  
  
"Look," Buffy says. She bends down and pulls the stone free of the ground. "The First couldn't do this. It's not corporeal. This is me, Dawnie. It's me."  
  
She releases the rock, and it falls to the ground with a good, solid thunk. That sound is what finally reaches Dawn. Hesitantly, she takes one step, then another, then another, crossing the lawn to her sister. Buffy, too, walks forward, and finally, they're in range to touch. Like in Dawn's dreams, Buffy reaches out--  
  
--and is met with a stinging slap across the face.  
  
"Ow," comments the Slayer.  
  
"You sent me away!" Dawn rages. "You sent me away without even asking, without talking to me or anything, and God, Buffy, I didn't know what was happening, I didn't know if you were alive or . . . and then there was that sinkhole on the news . . ."  
  
Her voice chokes, her knees buckle, and Buffy's arms are finally around her, supporting her as the sisters sink to the ground embracing. Dawn buries her face against Buffy's neck and sobs as the tension is finally released. She feels Buffy crying, too, and then they both feel Xander's arms wrapping around them. He's also crying.  
  
There will be questions about what happened. There will be mourning as they learn of the deaths in Sunnydale. There will be the overwhelming task of somehow recovering a life from all this.  
  
But for now, holding onto Buffy, Dawn has all she needs. 


End file.
